


Captured

by BlueTeamSucks



Series: Season 12 [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Captive, There's torture, i suck at tags sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTeamSucks/pseuds/BlueTeamSucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington had no idea where he was. He couldn't see anything. There was a bag covering his aching head and his hands were bound behind his back. Wherever he was, it was damp. Washington could practically smell the mold. And blood. It smelled terrifyingly like blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captured

Washington had no idea where he was. He couldn't see anything. There was a bag covering his aching head and his hands were bound behind his back. Wherever he was, it was damp. Washington could practically smell the mold. And blood. It smelled terrifyingly like blood.

He had no idea how long he'd been here. Wash had woken up with a start and realized what was going on. He hadn't budged since. He didn't think that the bullet in his thigh would allow him to move anyway.

Tucker was gone. Wash had pushed him away, he'd saved him. Tucker was alive, so was Caboose, and Grif, and Simmons, and-

Someone yelped from right next to him. Wash jumped, resisting the urge to call out. Instead, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Hello?"

"Washington?"

Wash sighed in relief. "Donut. Thank God. Are you alright?"

Donut shuffled around next to him. "My side hurts and I can't see anything."

Wash had almost forgotten that Donut had gotten shot too. That wasn't good, he couldn't help when he was tied up. "Are you still bleeding?"

There was a pause and some shuffling. "No, I don't think so. There's a bandage."

"Huh. That's weird. I guess they don't want us to die," Wash mused. If they tried to take care of Donut, then one of them must have something that their captors wanted.

There was alarm in Donut's voice when he asked, "Who?"

Before Wash could answer, someone jumped onto Wash, tackling him to the cement floor. "Donut run! The blues have captured us!"

Wash kicked Sarge off of him and sat up. The bag over his head had gotten knocked off, but he could barely see in the dim light. Sarge looked ready to kick him, but it looked like he had no idea where Wash was.

The kick to his ribs proved otherwise.

Wash scrambled away from Sarge and bumped into Donut. Donut squawked and Sarge growled. Wash frantically tried to talk some sense into him. "Sarge, it's me, Washington!"

"I know that it's you, numb-nuts! Why'd ya think I'm kickin' ya?" Sarge stumbled closer to him.

Wash gave him an exasperated look, before realizing that Sarge's head was covered by a hood, much like his own had been. Sarge couldn't see that he was tied up. "I didn't kidnap you two! Why the hell would I do that? Someone else did this!"

Sarge froze, then sighed. He carefully sat down, apparently what he thought was across from Washington. He actually ended up facing away from Wash.

"Who in Sam hell did this then?"

Wash shook his head. "I don't know. It's probably that Locus guy, but Felix could've turned on us. I don't remember much, I think that I was knocked unconscious."

"Felix. That's an interesting theory. I can see why you would suspect that. I'm afraid you're wrong, though." A solider materialized in front of Washington. Sarge leaped to his feet and Donut whimpered at the new voice. Wash stared at him, frowning. He definitely looked familiar.

Narrowing his eyes, Wash hissed, "Locus."

Locus chuckled, the noise echoing off of the walls. It was unsettling. Locus cocked his head to the side. Wash distantly noticed that his helmet had no visor. "Agent Washington, I need to ask you a few questions."

Wash had no clue what Locus would possibly want to know. He had nothing to lose, so Wash just shrugged. "Go ahead."

Locus shook his head. "Not here. Come with me." He reached out and put a gloved hand on Wash's shoulder. Wash didn't see any other options, so he stood.

He was pushed out of the small room and into what seemed like an endless hallway. Pairs of guards stalked past them, each one armed. There was no chance of escape. Wash could see that much.

Locus led him across from the room into a bigger, cleaner space. The smell of blood was replaced with bleach. The door was shut behind them by a guard and Wash shrunk back in fear. Locus was planning to torture him.

The walls were a bright white and it took Wash's eyes a moment to adjust. There was a chair in the middle of the room, much like a dentist's chair. Except dentists don't usually need restraints.

Keeping with the medical theme, there were trays of silver tools. Wash felt his eyes widen at the sight of drills, knives, and countless other evil looking devices.

The pair of soldiers that guarded the door looked almost sympathetic, even through their helmets. Wash tried to dig in his heels, but his bare feet found no traction on the tile floor. Locus shoved him into the chair.

Wash wanted to struggle. He wanted to punch Locus as he tightened the straps around his wrists. He want to kick and claw and scream. But the scene was too familiar. It even smelled the same. Washington could swear that he felt The Director and The Counselor standing over him, watching as he silently panicked.

Locus turned away as soon as Wash was secured to the chair. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, Agent Washington. If you don't answer quickly or truthfully, understand that I will hurt you until you do."

Locus returned holding a pair of pliers in his left hand and a knife in his right. Wash instinctively clamped his jaw shut. Locus laughed again. The sound gave Wash goosebumps.

"What is your name?"

The question surprised Wash. He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the seemingly simple question. "Washington," Wash said hesitantly.

Locus didn't respond, but instead he brought the knife up to Wash's face. Wash flinched as the cold metal of the blade moved over his cheek. He could barely feel the cut that was left behind, but he knew that it was there from the red that stained the silver.

"What is your name, Washington?" Locus asked again, his voice unnervingly steady.

Confusion flooded over Wash before he realized that Locus wanted his real name. There was no way in hell that he was going to tell him that.

Locus must've noticed the stubborn expression that came over Wash's face, because he set the knife down on a tray. Wash carefully watched his fluid movements for any sign that Locus was going to pick the knife back up.

He didn't grab the weapon. Instead, he suddenly reached up and grabbed Wash's face, involuntarily opening his mouth and preventing him from moving his head. Locus leaned in close, his emotionless helmet nearly knocking against Wash's forehead. "Your name. Just your first name."

Wash refused to respond. He twitched as Locus's pliers came into view. His hand forced Wash's mouth open further. He couldn't close his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to bite down. Locus was stronger than he expected.

"If you don't tell me, I'll pull one of those pretty little teeth out," Locus threatened, moving the tools closer to Wash's mouth. Wash could tell that he wasn't bluffing.

Despite the threat, Wash didn't say anything. He braced himself for the pain as Locus growled in anger. He fixed the pliers over one of Wash's back teeth, then paused. "I'm giving you one more chance. You can tell me your first name and I'll stop." He gave a tug on the tooth to prove his point.

Wash tried to shake his head in refusal, but Locus's hand stopped him. Locus must've gotten the message though, because he carelessly pulled the tooth out.

Pain shot through Wash's jaw as soon as Locus took the pliers out of his mouth. He thrashed around and managed to scream out, "FUCK!" The pain quickly kept him from saying anything else though. Any movement in his mouth hurt.

So of course, Locus pressed a finger to the spot where his tooth used to be. "I expected more from you, David."

Washington stopped struggling and he froze, staring at Locus in horror. His voice was hoarse when he whispered, "How the fuck do you know that?"

Locus let go of his aching face and straightened up. "You'd be surprised at what you can find if you look deep enough, David."

Wash couldn't help the moan that made its way out of him. Locus knew. He knew everything. If he could find his name, he could find out anything about him.

Setting the pliers and his bloody tooth down on the tray, Locus started talking again. Wash could barely find it in himself to listen. "So, David. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, where did the Rebels go?"

Wash shook his head. If Locus had no idea where the Rebels went, that meant that Tucker and Caboose were safe. He wasn't about to endanger that, even if it meant torture.

Oddly enough, Locus took the lack of answer calmly. He kept his slow, precise movements as he took Wash's left hand in his. Wash only had a moment to feel confused, before his hand was squeezed almost tighter than he could bear. He could feel the bones in his hand grind together.

"David, my patience is running out. Where are the Rebels?" Locus asked evenly, nearly crushing Wash's hand.

Wash shook his head again. "I'm not going to tell you." He hoped that his voice didn't sound as small as he felt.

Locus let go of all of his fingers except his pointer finger. He pulled the digit backwards, agonizingly slow. Wash gritted his teeth together as his finger was pushed to the point where it was almost broken.

"Where is Felix?"

Wash didn't give a flying fuck about Felix, but he guessed that he was with, or at least nearby the others, so he refused to tell. He didn't even bother conveying the message of his refusal to Locus, he was sure that the merc could figure it out for himself.

Locus snapped his finger.

Wash couldn't help himself, he cried out in pain. He avoided looking at the bent finger, he already felt nauseous. It was all that he could do to not dry heave. Wash swallowed his gags as best as he could though, he didn't want Locus to think that he was weak.

Locus clearly didn't give a shit about Washington right now. Wash could practically see the steam coming out of his helmet. He obviously wanted to know about the Rebels. All the more reason to not tell him.

What Wash didn't realize was just how mad Locus was. He needed to get to the Rebels. He needed to kill the little dick Felix, then destroy Kimball and her precious fucking army of boys who were pretending to be soldiers.

When Locus brought his fist down on Wash's hand, he got the message. He was pretty sure Locus broke a couple more bones in his hand in addition to bringing even more pain to his finger.

Wash tried to muffle his yelp of pain as Locus continued to press down on his sore hand. Wash wished that his right hand was his dominant, because he was screwed. He doubted that he could even move his left hand.

There was a moment of silence in the room as Locus breathed heavily. Wash shut his eyes and leaned back in the chair, trying to distract himself from the intense pain that was coming from his hand. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"Get him out of the chair."

Locus's deep, raspy voice surprised Wash. He opened his eyes as Locus let go of his broken hand, almost sighing as the pain let up a little bit.

The two guards that Washington had almost forgotten about moved from their post at the door to loosen the straps. Luckily for him, the guard that undid his wrists wasn't as rough as the guard that undid his legs.

Now looking distracted by something that they couldn't see, Locus waved them away. "Put him back with the others. I need to take this call."

Without question the guards grabbed Wash's arms and hauled him out of the room. Wash tried as hard as he could not to trip as he was shoved forward, nearly banging into the wall. He was getting dizzy, either from the pain in his hand or the blood loss. He needed to sit down. Walking was only reminding him of the dull pain from the bullet that was still lodged in his leg.

One guard fumbled with a pair of keys and the other stood behind Wash, watching him as if he had the ability to run away. Even if he didn't trip over his own two feet, Wash doubted that he could make it for five seconds without getting shot or tackled.

The guard finally got the door open and Washington was pushed inside. Donut and Sarge stopped their quiet conversation from their spot on the floor. Somehow, they had both managed to get the hoods off of their heads.

As the door was shut behind him, Wash sat heavily down on the floor next to Sarge. He cradled his hand close to his body as if that would relieve some of the pain.

Donut immediately started talking. "Wash, are you alright? We think that we heard you scream a couple of times and why is there so much blood?"

Wash just leaned his head back against the wall. "I'm fine Donut."

Sarge scoffed. "You don't look fine to me, son."

Wash spit out some of the blood from his mouth. He shrugged in answer to Sarge. Truthfully, he didn't know if he was fine. Locus intended to get that information somehow, whether it meant torturing him more or torturing Sarge or even Donut.

Before Sarge could ask another question or criticize him, the door creaked open once again. Locus stood in the doorway, silent.

Wash liked to think that he had gotten pretty good at reading people through their armor. From all the time he spent incased in the suit and watching others try to express themselves without words, he had picked up on a few cues. He could feel Locus's rage. Whatever had been said on that call, he was not happy about it.

"Get up. All of you. I've gotten orders to move you to a more secure location."


End file.
